small things

"i cannot do great things, only small things with great love."

i was inspired by this quote. ironically, they are the words of mother theresa.

so often, i think about what great things can i do. what can i create that might move people, inspire someone else or elicit a response.

too often, i fear mediocrity and measure the value of what i aspire to produce before it's even materialized. i worry that whatever i conceptualize will be short of stellar - just another trite condiment at the artists' table. and the orb of my presence in this life cycle might be lukewarm or... beige. (oh, how deathly afraid i am of being a wit-less color. an on-the-fence, without conviction or moxie, beige.)

but submitting to these fears doesn't help anyone. it produces nothing. it's paralyzing, it's lazy, and worse than beige - it's colorless.

and so, i've learned:

1. i cannot devalue the idea before i've even made the attempt to produce it.
2. by what or whose measure is the work valued and why do i give a shit?
3. most importantly, greatness is found not in the act itself, not in the piece that comes of it, but in the intention and process. the catalyst behind the movement.

how much of myself do i commit to any and all acts? what is it that propels me to do so? this is going to sound hokey as fuck, but it really is the love. the more willingly i lend myself to this love, surrender to it, feed it, the more honest is my intention. falling in love with the materials, manipulating them with tremendous care, and really caring about what i'm doing. that is where i find greatness, the driving force behind 'do-ing'.

here is my response to this realization. the first piece of what i plan to make into a series of type and materials exploration.


"small things", photo composite of cut tape on paper

renege.

i take back what i said about animals not having the ability to imagine. who knows what other species are capable of or to what levels they are cognizant. i'm an animal, too. born of this earth to eventually be recycled back into it. just like every other living being.

just because i've yet to figure out how to invite the cat downstairs over for coffee and chit-chat doesn't mean said cat is a soul-less, incomprehensible creature. what an arrogant thing to assume. maybe cat just isn't looking for the invitation and chooses not to communicate with me.

dogs and cats and bears have individual personalities. sea otters hold hands as they float downstream on their backs. rats fight and begrudge each other food in the subway.

for all i know, the only thing separating us from other species is our need to put a shirt on when we step out of the house to harvest food from the local grocers'.

virginia is for lovahz.

sometimes i need a breather from the city - to step out of the heightened buzz and into more of an eased hum. richmond is a great escape in this respect. 1 part progressively urban and 2 parts ma nature, stirred, with a twist of... something sweet. or buttery. or rich.

in fact, if i could give richmond a single word, it would have to be "rich" for the food, the history and the elaborate sophistication of its traditional roots. it's an eager city with a southern drawl. i guess that's what makes it so charming.